Unexpected Changes
by PiefaceMcGee
Summary: William thinks he resents and even dreads the routine in which Grell bursts into his office every day to chat. When Grell is suddenly removed from his life, he realizes the loss and puts his all into getting him back. On permanent hiatus.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: **_Well, I'm a little nervous...this is my first time submitting fanfiction to , but please don't let that stop you from reviewing. I hope you enjoy this and that it's not too out of character. 83;_

**Disclaimer: **I own neither Kuroshitsuji/Black Butler nor its characters, much as I would love to. OTL Kuroshitsuji is © Yana Toboso and Square Enix.

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It began like any other day. William T. Spears woke up, cleaned up, got dressed, ate a light breakfast, cleaned up again, and went to work. Once there, he shut himself up in his office to tackle the mountain of paperwork that somehow always accumulated on his desk overnight. He emerged only to take on a rather large soul-reaping job in south London (_At least_, he reminded himself tiredly while he viewed a Cinematic Record, _I've got it much better than the humans who must scrape this mess up tonight._) which coincidentally finished a few minutes before lunch. Not that he ever used his entire hour-lunch break.

His eye twitched involuntarily when he checked his watch.

_I might as well get it over with, _he thought dryly, re-entering his office, shoulders hunched. He sat down at his desk with more force than was necessary, beginning his paperwork once more. Waiting. Waiting for the inevitable.

Any minute now, Grell would come crashing into his office and talk his ear off, procrastinating his own work and delaying William's. And the chatter was never productive, either. Grell _could_ have been informing him of troublesome spots to avoid on the field if one could help it, or some other useful information. He _could_ have been actually turning in the paperwork he was supposed to. But no. The red-haired menace was there to chit-chat and gossip like a teenaged girl. Yesterday, he'd actually launched into an incredibly long-winded joke that took several minutes to tell (in addition, he'd had to correct the joke's setup and facts more than once), and by the time he'd finally gotten to the end, he suddenly stopped and sheepishly announced that he'd forgotten the punch line. In response, William had buried his face into his hands and dismissed Grell with a few choice cutting remarks, coupled with half-serious threats of unemployment. Grell had been quick to scurry away as fast as his legs could carry him.

It was with a more pronounced scowl than usual that William went back to his paperwork. After yesterday's episode, he had extremely low expectations for today. All he could do was brace himself. As he worked, he constantly glanced up at the clock on his desk with a growing sense of dread. The anticipation was _murderous_; normally Grell would have barged in by now.

Ten minutes…twenty minutes…forty…

By now, William was almost concerned. His gaze lingered on the clock for a moment, and then he concluded that Grell must have either been actually busy for a change, or otherwise detained and stopped from his normal routine. Pleased with this conclusion, William relaxed, neatly crossed one leg over the other, and began working again with more focus.

_Crash_.

Raucous laughter.

Startled horribly, William jerked and knocked over a half-full ink bottle over the document he was signing. Just as he swore loudly and rushed to clean it up, his office door flew open and an extremely jovial Grell Sutcliff stumbled in, trying to catch his breath. He paused, took one look at William, and then burst into laughter all over again, glasses slipping down his nose. It took the red-haired shinigami several attempts to push them back up his face again, clumsily pressing his fingers against the lenses in the process.

William stared at him for a moment with one eyebrow raised. "…Sutcliff, are you, by any chance, drunk?"

This only made Grell snort and laugh harder. "No! No, no, no. No, I…!" he had to cling to the doorframe to stand upright, but finally started making an effort to calm down. "Oh, no. It's just — " here he started giggling again, but more softly this time "really — very — funny — I just — I'm late because Undertaker wanted me over for tea, see..."

Ah. This was going to explain _quite_ a lot. Undertaker was rather fond of any brand of humor, so it was no surprise that he'd somehow found it while Grell was visiting. William returned his attention to his soiled desk and did his best to mop up the ink with the supplies he had on hand. He would have to go request a copy of this particular document, and it would be who _knew _how long before it could be properly filled out again and filed away. He bit his lip in anger at the mere thought of it.

Still giggling incessantly, Grell shut the door and then plopped himself down in the chair across from William's desk. He pulled a small cloth from his pants pocket, removed his glasses, and began polishing the fingerprinted lenses. "So who am I to say no, right? I figured I could get some pointers but not have it _boring_, and…"

"Get on with it, Sutcliff," William said disinterestedly.

"Pff. Stiff," he cackled, replacing his glasses. "All right, so…so apparently, this woman had gone in earlier this morning to see her dead husband's body and make sure everything was okay before the burial, but she had some problem with the _suit color_, petty thing, she said, 'Oh, everything's perfect, except his suit…my husband always wore a brown suit, you've got him in a blue one.' So Undertaker had told her, 'No problem at all, luv, that can be easily fixed, come back later and I'll have set things in order.' The woman's all like, 'Okay, thank you' and leaves, right? She came back to check on things again while we were having tea. She went, 'My, but he looks like he might only be sleeping. He's perfect, just how he used to look, thank you for going through so much trouble for me.'

"Undertaker laughs and says 'Not at all,' and explains to her how some other fellow had been brought in and dressed in a brown suit, and _his_ widow thought he was better in a _blue_ one. The two happened to be the same size, so the suits were switched. The woman's like, 'Even so, it must have been such a hassle to change all those clothes,' and Undertaker just grins and says — he says — 'Not really, all I did was exchange their heads.'" By now, Grell was laughing so hard he was almost in tears. "The poor woman!" he cried. "She nearly had a conniption! It took Undertaker twenty minutes to convince her that he was only joking!"

William just stared at him in disgust. It could have been worse; at least this time Grell remembered the punch line. It was typically disrespectful of Undertaker to pull such a joke on a grieving loved one of his 'clients', and William failed to find any humor in it. He wasn't at all surprised that Grell took such delight in the morbid joke.

After a couple of minutes, Grell's hysterical laughter had died down somewhat, and he looked up to see William glaring disapprovingly down at him. The redhead snickered, reached across the desk, and teasingly pushed one of William's shoulders. "Come on, Will, _smile_, it was funny." William just deepened his scowl as an answer. Grell took notice for a change, and he shrank back slightly, his grin beginning to fade. "…Come _on_, it's a _joke_. You're supposed to laugh."

"Laughter is a result of finding a joke humorous, which I did not," William replied dryly. "It would serve Undertaker right to lose his customers after such an incident."

Grell just stared at William in complete disbelief, his smile practically sliding right off his face. "…Unbelievable, Will," he said softly, all traces of his good cheer vanished. "It's the best joke any of us have heard in _forever_ and you don't even crack a smile. What's it going to take to get you to lighten up, huh?"

"I don't know if you noticed — in fact, I doubt it — but I was trying to work," William said through gritted teeth. He was still mopping up the ink spill.

"Ehh, don't be such a snob! You're perfectly allowed to appreciate a joke, you know. And anyway, we've still got ten whole minutes left for our lunch…break…" Grell trailed off when he finally realized what William was doing. "…That…wasn't because of me, was it?" he asked hesitantly, shrinking back.

William didn't look at him. "_I_ knocked it over, but yes, you helped."

Grell jumped up to his feet, fussing for a second with his coat pocket, and produced a handkerchief. "Here," he said anxiously, "Will, I'm sorry, please let me help you clean it up…"

"_No_," William snapped. "I know you too well, Sutcliff, you'll find a way to make things worse. You can help by leaving."

"But it's such a mess…I could get you a towel...a rag, or a sponge, or, or _something_…" Grell stammered, twisting the handkerchief in his hands even as he slowly sat back down.

"Just get out," William said irritably.

Grell got up to go, but he paused in the doorway, placing his hand on the doorjamb, a small frown set on his face. He stayed there for a moment, and turned his head slightly, but not completely around to face William. "…Um…you know…I know this probably isn't the best time to say this —"

"So don't," William said scathingly.

"— but I feel like I should say it now, while it's on my mind," Grell continued as if he hadn't been interrupted. "I really can't even _remember_ the last time you laughed at a joke, or anything. Or even _smiled_. I think it's been years."

William looked up from the folder he'd been in the middle of mopping up and cocked an eyebrow. "…And?"

Grell swallowed thickly and turned to face the hallway again. "You ever think you might be working yourself to death?"

"As a reaper, you know full well I cannot —" William began irritably.

"You know what I mean," the redhead huffed, cutting him off and waving a hand dismissively. "I'm saying it can't be good for you…you should just take a break or something. Just once in a while. Live a little. You're _always_ working."

William just hardened his gaze and set his jaw. "You know exactly why that is. There simply aren't enough of us to meet quota, so I — "

"It's not just recently!" Grell protested, turning around to face William. The brunette was startled to see the injury in Grell's expression. "It's been...much too long. As soon as we got here you just suddenly started to bury your face into your papers and things and you stopped smiling. What happened?"

"Nothing _happened_, Grell, I only realized what needed to be done," he said tartly. "Things _are_ serious, especially now. I don't have time for leisure."

"Funny how everyone else has plenty," Grell returned bitterly. "You're the only one who — "

"If everyone else chooses to neglect their jobs, then that's their problem," William snapped. "I choose to take on more work than others in our department because no one else will. You are perfectly welcome to join in and help things along. Why we aren't doing more work is completely beyond me."

Grell was still for a moment, and then said quietly, "I thought you hated doing overtime work."

William let out an exasperated sigh. "I do, but I have to."

"It's _killing _you, Will! Leave it to the superiors, and —"

"I didn't ask you!" Realizing that he had raised his voice, William shut his eyes, exhaling slowly, and waited until he'd calmed down before speaking again. He laced his fingers together across the desk and opened his eyes. "_They_ will not do the work, either, because it is not their job to do so."

"Couldn't you ask them for help?" Grell asked.

"You think I haven't tried — ?"

"There's got to be _something_ they can do, like spread the work around to all the departments…"

William paused for just a moment. For some reason, the redhead was really desperate about this. Odd. Grell had never once complained about anyone's workload before, his own being the sole exception. "…It's not that simple," he said at last. "Everyone was hired for specific, individual purposes. You can't have personnel such as regular officers or secretaries doing dispatch management work like mine, it's not what they're trained for. It's like…taking you out of _here_ and dumping you into Undertaker's shop and telling you to run it. You don't know the first thing about being a mortician, I assume?"

"Not really," Grell admitted. "But with some training, I think I'd —"

"Training is something we do not have time for," William sighed. "It's too big and unnecessary an operation. It's better if the work stays where it belongs."

"S'pose it is," the redhead muttered dejectedly. He stared down at his shoes as he scuffed them on the rug, clasping his hands behind his back.

William finally cleaned off the rest of the ink spill and threw the new wad of tissue paper he'd used for it into the waste basket. He glanced at his hands to survey the damage; they were generously smudged with black ink. He grumbled to himself and began to clean his hands.

Grell fidgeted in the doorway for a moment, and then pocketed his handkerchief. Then, out of the clear blue, he bounced up into his normal jaunty stance, grinning broadly. "Well, then! Guess I should let you go, eh, Will? 'Cause now I only have about a minute and a half to get all the way to my own office~."

Still attempting to wipe his hands clean (and getting next to nowhere using his current method), William looked up suspiciously at Grell. Had he only been faking his distress? He wouldn't put it above Grell to put on such a show just to toy with his mind...and the redhead _was_ a very gifted actor, as he liked to remind everyone, albeit in very…feminine terms. The older reaper once again struggled for a moment for a way to reply, and finally settled for an indifferent "I don't need to dismiss you again. You've been free to go whenever you like."

Grell threw the back of his hand to his forehead, the other planted on a hip, and gasped and sighed dramatically. "_Alas_! He continues to be as cold as a winter night in the Arctic!" he exclaimed, then cupping his hands over his heart as if it had broken. "But I vow to one day melt his icy exterior with the flames of my scorching, passionate love, which is as hot as the sun…!"

"You're just dawdling now," William said with barely-concealed disgust, gritting his teeth. "If you're in such a hurry, then why haven't you left yet?"

"Ooh, so _tactless_, Will~! _Tsk, tsk, tsk_. No _wonder_ you can't seem to find yourself a lady."

"Who asked you?" he snapped, flushing slightly.

"Why, no one at all, I only thought it appropriate to comment on your current romantic status — or lack thereof," Grell said innocently, batting his eyes at his supervisor.

Seething, William curled his hands into such tight fists that his knuckles turned white. "Grell Sutcliff, you now have approximately forty-three seconds in which you need to be back in your own office, and less than two of them had better be spent on _getting out of my sight_!" he snarled.

Grell just cackled and flirtatiously waggled his fingers at William while he flounced out the door, flipping his hair over a shoulder as he did so. "Buh-bye, Willy-Nilly~!"

When the door shut, it took William every last shred of his self control to not shout in incoherent rage or _throw _something. _Damn that flamboyant, idiotic, disgusting, pathetic excuse of a reaper, damn him!_ He knew so very well how to push William's buttons, but somehow had never yet managed to cross the line. He was a complete expert, one would say. The leading authority on Annoying the Living Hell Out of William Spears, that was Grell Sutcliff.

It took William a couple minutes of deep breathing to release the tension in his muscles and fully relax, leaning back in his chair. Significantly calmer than before, and carefully avoiding reliving the conversation in his head, he began to work again. He'd given up on trying to clean his hands in here; he would have to go scrub them clean when he had his next break. One more unnecessary thing that kept him from his work…how annoying. All this extra work was directly attributed to Grell's untimely intrusion. William scowled again, putting a little more force than was needed into his pen.

_May the day when Grell Sutcliff stops barging into my office come soon_, he thought bitterly. _Very soon._


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: **_Woo! Chapter two. I'm really happy with the positive reception, you guys, thank you very much. It's guys like you that make me love to write. C:_

_Kuroshitsuji belongs to Yana Toboso and Square Enix._

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William spent the next several hours in relative peace and quiet. His only disturbances came from various reapers entering his office to deliver their reports, and even those visits lasted twelve seconds on average, if that. He didn't hear a peep out of Grell for the rest of the day, or even hear _of_ him, which was unusual, but it was an extremely welcome silence; William definitely had no complaints. Perhaps the redhead had finally been humbled, but it was far more likely that he was just sulking somewhere.

As the saying goes, 'Out of sight, out of mind'. William was no exception to this, and eventually became so deeply immersed in his work that he forgot about that afternoon's incident entirely. Things went on this way until the first hints of dusk began to stain the cloudy sky and his office began to darken, and then —

Somewhere in the distance, a set of doors crashed open with a terrific _bang_, and the noise carried far down the hallways.

Thankfully not startled this time, William lifted himself from his bored stupor and shifted his gaze up to his door, knitting his brow in annoyance at the disturbance. He held it for a moment, but did not hear it again, and so returned his attention to the paper he was reviewing. He chewed absently on the tip of his pen. _Time of death: 4:17 in the afternoon. Cause: heart attack. The victim's soul was secured without incident; however there were signs that a demon had been on-site very recently —_

Another crash, this time closer. This one was accompanied by the pounding of feet and a panicked shout; he thought he heard his name being called. Somewhere further back, he heard the sounds of more people running and shouting, motorized death scythes revving up. _What the…?_ He sat very still, listening intently, trying to figure out where the sounds were coming from. For some reason, he got a strong feeling of dread from whatever might be happening. Somehow, it felt extremely foreboding, and he didn't like it.

"_Mr. Speeeaaars!_"

Realizing that some of the sounds were coming from the hallways, William shook off his unease, scowled, and got up from his desk to go investigate the commotion. He'd reached for his doorknob when the door suddenly flew open and a panic-stricken Ronald Knox tripped inside. William only barely flinched back in time to avoid collision, and he narrowed his eyes as Ronald staggered down to his hands and knees. "What's all this about, Knox?"

Ronald only shook his head, gasping sharply for air. He weakly held a hand up to signal to wait; he needed to catch his breath. Even still, it was evidently so urgent that he attempted to speak between pants, anyway. "D-de…de…dem…"

William knelt down in front of him to steady him, wondering why on Earth he was so panicked. At closer inspection, there were long rips in the blond reaper's suit, and where the fabric was torn, he was bleeding freely. A trickle of blood was running down his cheek from a deep cut under his eye. Startled, William took a step back, attempting to help the other to his feet. "What happened? Why are you injured?"

Gasping sharply again and clutching at an apparent stitch in his side, Ronald looked up at William as he got up to his feet, but then winced and stumbled back down with a hiss of pain. "Demons," he finally wheezed out, eyes screwed shut. "Attacking. Lo-Loads of them — there's not — enough of us — need your help — "

William froze in place for half a second before he recovered from the initial shock of the news. He got up without wasting a moment, swiftly crossing the room to retrieve his death scythe. He then made certain that Ronald Knox could stand, steadying him carefully. "Where are they right now? How many have we got fighting?"

"There's only...about…a hundred or so…of us still here…_hundred_, against all them, we're not — not going to get backup in time," Ronald muttered quickly. "I dunno who all's there, but…we — we have to _try_ something…call the Wales branch, they're closest — or can we get Undertaker, where can we find him…his shop?"

William shook his head. "There's no time for that right now," he said firmly, trying to think fast. "…Tell me where everyone is and then _stay here_ and do what you can."

"They — they're all out on the bridge. They were on the stairs, but we've managed to make them retreat, I just dunno for how lo — "

"Stay here," William repeated, already halfway out the door. "Do nothing unless you're sure it's absolutely necessary. I'm going to go assist as well as I can."

"Y-yes, sir."

William broke into a run.

_Curse whoever thought it would be a good idea to have such a lot of stairs going up to the Library_, William thought sourly as he ran down them. _I won't make it in time._ He put on another burst of speed, going as fast as he could without losing his footing. Finally, he caught sight of the bridge.

The scene arrived upon was one of the most alarming he'd experienced in his career, if not the most; the steps were completely covered with deep gashes, large chunks gouged out of them, rubble and debris scattered about, which he had to work to evade. Further out, along the bridge, lay more devastation. The railing had been almost completely destroyed, and the bridge itself didn't look like it would last much longer. Like the steps, it had been hacked apart to the point that it was beyond recognition, most likely souvenirs of the ongoing battle atop it. Even as he watched, parts of it were crumbling off the jagged edges and falling down into the water far below. The bodies of scores of demons lay lifeless across what was left of the bridge and stairs, along with, William realized with an unpleasant sting, many of the reapers, as well, impaled on their own death scythes.

There was still a handful of demons left, and an equally small number of reapers could be seen in the fray. The nearest to him — Agnes Lockhart — was lying on her side amongst a pile of rubble, her hair in her face and glasses askew. Her breathing was shallow but even, and her death scythe sat loose in her hand. William crouched down beside her and looked over her, checking for obvious injury. She didn't seem too badly off; bruises and cuts that weren't very deep. She appeared to have collapsed from exhaustion. As he looked over her, he narrowed his eyes. "…Agnes, are you all right?"

She cracked an eye open and glared. "Please don't draw attention to me, sir," she muttered. "I'm trying to play dead because I'm too injured to fight."

"Agnes, I could see you breathing," William said as he turned away from her, watching the ongoing battle. "It's not going to do you much good."

"So long as I keep lying off to the side and don't fight them, they're not going to look too closely." She coughed. "I'm too weak to fight now. If I go in, I'm done for. You'll need me later if we can survive this."

"What's the situation down here?" he asked out of the corner of his mouth. He looked at the small cluster of demons, trying to see who was left fighting them. "Who's left? Ronald Knox said there were at least one hundred demons fighting us."

"Right now there are seven demons, nine reapers including you, not counting me. It was very quick and very bloody; Grell Sutcliff went and killed over a dozen of them in the first couple of minutes. …Speaking of whom, he's having trouble; the idiot just picked a fight with Sebastian Michaelis not a minute ago."

William bristled at this. _That_ one was among them? Why?

"He was the one to take me down," she went on, but suddenly shuddered and clutched her chest. She turned her head and coughed, and blood came out with it. She stared at the flecks of blood with a grimace. "…That can't be good."

William suddenly heard the telltale roar of a certain motorized scythe, accompanied by its owner's delighted jeering, though he couldn't quite see where it was coming from. In addition, no one else seemed to have noticed his arrival. He looked back and furrowed his brow. "You're certain it was Michaelis?"

"There was no doubt," she muttered. "Sutcliff opened his big yap and made all sorts of disgusting proclamations of love for the demon. I doubt Michaelis is taking kindly to it, so you need to go help our boy. You're at full strength and Grell is wearing down."

He didn't need to be told again. He nodded, collected his scythe, and said dryly, "Do try to stay alive, Lockhart."

"I'll do my best, sir."

With that, William abandoned her side and ran, aiming straight for the middle of the group of demons that were left. It wasn't long before he could hear Grell alternatively taunting and flirting with his opponents.

"Ahhh! Sebby, _darling_, I _wondered_ if I'd ever see you again~" Grell cooed as he swung his death scythe at a certain ebony-haired demon. "You know, I was right; you _do_ look quite ravishing when you're dressed up in your own lovely blood~ Have I _ever_ got an eye for this sort of thing!"

The demon answered quietly; William could not hear what was said, even as he ran closer, his own scythe at the ready. But before he could make it to Grell's side to aide him, another demon launched out of the darkness and in front of him, blocking his path and leering at him, challenging him. Unfazed, William tightened his grip on his death scythe and prepared to defend himself and quickly exterminate the vermin. From what he could see behind the demon in front of him, Grell seemed to be wearing down, but still had quite enough energy to flirt. He could only hope that Grell could hold out just a little longer.

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_HOSNAP. CLIFFHANGER! And also, an OC! I'm sorry about that. OTL I admit I used this fic to test-drive Agnes, who is my character. What do you think of her? :O_


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: **_Aaaand, chapter three. What do I even write in here anymore? :U_

_Kuroshitsuji belongs to Yana Toboso and Square Enix. I do not own it in any way, nor do I claim to do so._

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"Awww, so cold, Sebastian! You haven't changed a bit!" Grell giggled as he swung his scythe again. "I'd hoped we could maybe get together sometime, but considering our — er — _current activity_ — I'm guessing not?"

"It boggles my mind how you can continue to say such disgusting things even as you attempt to take my life, Mr. Grell," the demon said with a smirk.

"Hmm…looks like a nice conversation is out, too…how's your little brat, then?" Grell jeered, his flirtatious manner vanishing on the spot. "Have you eaten his soul yet? I think you have…it'd explain what you're doing here."

Sebastian's own friendly smile disappeared quickly at those words, his eyes gaining a dangerous, hard edge. "That would be none of your concern, _Sutcliff_," he said sharply.

"It probably caused us a lot of trouble to not have gained that particular soul," Grell said cheerfully, lunging forward with the death scythe. It missed its mark for the most part, but still managed to cuff the demon across an arm, resulting in a spray of blood that caused the red-haired reaper to squeal in fiendish delight. "_Ahhh_, what a lovely color that is; I shall nevertire of it — but I suppose a soul of that caliber must have given you more strength, you're so _frisky_ today~! Why not put some of that energy into, say, a bedroom, eh, love-bunny?"

Sebastian's immediate response was to use his good arm to grab the reaper by the collar and fling him to the side like a ragdoll. The death scythe, motor still droning, went flying out of Grell's hand, sailing far beyond his reach and landing, blades first, into a section of the front steps. It tore and chunked it up horribly before finally lodging itself firmly there, motor sputtering and dying. Grell himself landed heavily on his back, the impact sending out a shockwave of pain to all of his limbs, rendering him temporarily immobilized. He lay on his back, stunned, staring up at the rose-colored sky with a surprised look on his face.

"I believe I've asked you time and again to not to say such disgusting things to me," Sebastian said with another cold smile, bending over and picking Grell up by the throat. The reaper gagged and choked, but immediately set to work to try and free himself, viciously clawing at Sebastian's arm and hand, though with his gloves on, it didn't have much effect. The demon smirked and, even with his injured arm, was able to slam him headfirst into the ground.

Once again temporarily stunned, his head swimming, Grell tried to get to his feet, but was too dizzy to even stay on his knees. He collapsed, trying to at least focus his vision. Everything was a blur. He couldn't think clearly, he couldn't move, he was numb. Without even his death scythe, he was powerless.

A female demon descended to the ground right next to Sebastian, surveying the crumpled heap that was Grell Sutcliff. She was not a pretty thing to look at; her skin was grayish and her face had a sort of pinched look to it, her nose upturned slightly, almost like a pig's. Her teeth were pointed like Grell's, but unlike his, hers were crooked and yellow, nearly orange. Her black hair was stringy and unkempt, the texture almost resembling hay. Atop her head were two equally black, twisted horns, like a ram's. A great pair of batlike wings protruded from her back, which she folded. She was uncomfortably tall — her height exceeded Sebastian's — skinny, and lanky, with next to no curves. A long, serpentine tail poked out from under the dingy grey tunic she was wearing. "_That's_ the little blighter that's offed most of us?" she asked roughly with a disdainful sniff. Her voice was raspy, like she'd recently eaten sand.

"Unfortunately," Sebastian confirmed, smiling grimly.

"Euch," she said, and he nodded in agreement. "Well, he's obviously the biggest threat, so I'm thinking we should probably just maim him or something now while he's down."

He considered the idea for only a moment before he shook his head. "No. I have a much better idea that is sure to get us what we want, Azriel."

She did not seem impressed. "Oh, _do_ indulge."

"His power is quite valuable to the other reapers," he said calmly, stepping forward and lifting Grell up by the hair. The reaper groaned and whimpered in pain, but Sebastian ignored it, shifting his grip to the back of Grell's collar, giving him a little shake as if he were airing out a shirt. "Why don't we take him back with us and then make our demands in exchange for _this_?"

She leaned in closer to inspect the limp shinigami, wrinkling her piggish nose at him in distaste. "He doesn't look like much. I've heard of this one, you know, he's got such an awful reputation. They say he's a giant slacker and strays from his duties to flirt with just about any man he comes across. Why would they ever miss him? Let's just kill him and move on to the rest."

Sebastian just smiled patiently. "For all his flaws, he's currently the most potent member of the force in this division. They need him." He gestured eloquently to the carnage around them. "As you so kindly pointed out before, most of this resulted from his scythe."

She tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Huh. He's _how_ powerful, again?"

"He slew twelve of us within the first seven and a half minutes of the invasion alone," he answered with a wry smile. "He has quite a lust for blood, you see…particularly my own. However, it was his own undoing. He depleted his all his energy on the weaker ones before he got to me."

The she-demon let out a low whistle. "Still, they don't kid about you, do they? How long did it take you to overpower him?"

"I would estimate about three minutes or so. I'm somewhat rusty."

"It's because he's a hell of a butler," Grell muttered with a little smile. He lifted his head slightly, watching the demon's smug expression quickly fade.

"I am no longer a butler, and I would like to forget that I ever was one," he said with an unpleasant sneer, dropping the reaper without ceremony. "Kindly cease and desist the nonsense." Grell squealed in surprise when he landed, but managed to get up onto his hands and knees, snickering.

"You still sound just like one, darling. And _look _like one, you've still got the suit and everyth—!"

Sebastian smiled and kicked Grell back down, ignoring his pained cry. "Old habits die hard, I'm afraid," he said, pretending to sound apologetic. He rested a foot on Grell's chest and leaned into it, pinning the redhead down.

"Not that there's anything wrong at all with wanting to be proper," Grell went on, trying to push Sebastian's leg off. "Besides, I think it suits you quite well." He chuckled nervously. "Hey, Sebby…do you think you could take your foot off my chest? Because I think you're crushing my ribcage."

Sebastian, in answer, simply put _more_ weight into it. "Good. Perhaps it will shut you up."

"Unlikely," he grunted, even as he tried to smirk up at the demon.

Sebastian increased the weight against Grell's chest again, eliciting a round of '_ow ow ow ow ow!'_s and a 'You're a _beast_, Sebastian..!' from the reaper. "I suppose it _is_ a futile effort to silence you. It would be like trying to coax a smile out of William Spears."

This wiped the smile right off of Grell's face. That had stung considerably, and he couldn't be sure if it had been intentional or not. With Sebastian, one never quite knew for certain.

"Oh? Why the silence, Mr. Grell? Have I just hit a sensitive spot?" the demon asked mockingly, leaning forward and resting his arms across his knee. The she-demon beside them snickered.

Grell forced his customary grin. It seemed to have been unintentional after all. "It's just that I was so surprised to hear you say that, Sebas! It's truer than you realize," he said, pretending to sound impressed. "You're spot on, as always~." He grunted in pain when Sebastian shifted his weight. "Oof — Seb, are you _sure_ you can't let me up? Because this is really hurting me_eeeeeyow_!" he broke off into another cry as Sebastian now put his full weight onto Grell's chest, applying as much pressure as he was capable.

Sebastian grinned in earnest this time. "You sounded like a cat just now. I find this so much more amusing than I probably should."

Grell feebly tried again to push Sebastian's leg away, but to no avail. "Sebby, this is _very_ uncomfortable."

"Shame."

"I think I'm lying on a rock."

"That's unfortunate."

"It's digging into my back."

"You poor thing."

"I'm going to have a bruise tomorrow."

"You have my utmost sympathy."

"I can't breathe, by the way."

"You're a reaper," Sebastian reminded him. "You don't need to breathe."

"…So, erm…how long exactly are you going to keep this up?" Grell asked warily.

"As long as I feel like. It might take me a very long time to grow bored of this."

"See, it seems to me that you're dawdling for some reason. But I could have sworn you had all intentions of killing me, since that's what you were trying to do to my friends just a few minutes ago."

"Hm…well, I _did_, but I came up with a much better plan that I'm going to follow through with."

"Which is…?" Grell prompted.

"Well, I'm certainly not going to tell you. It would spoil the surprise."

"'Spoil the surprise'!" the reaper echoed indignantly. "You've literally got me under your heel — which _still_ hurts, mind you — and you're saying you've got a _surprise_ for me? …Ah, well, I'm game. Any surprise of Sebby's is bound to be good," he concluded cheerfully.

"I do wish you would stop calling me that.'"

"Why? It's perfect for you."

"It really isn't."

"Ungrateful snob!" Grell pouted.

"I cannot properly express how grating it is on the senses."

There was simply no defeating this man. His responses were lightning-quick, and they stopped Grell at every turn. He was _good_. Grell pretended to sigh in exasperation and defeat, then said conversationally, "What _are_ all of you doing up here, anyway? I never exactly caught that. I just rushed outside in all the excitement. And I _was_ fairly surprised to see _you_ again, Sebbykins."

"Ah. _Another_ subject change. You truly are a master conversationalist," Sebastian answered in a bored tone. "I suppose there's no harm in letting you in on the essentials. Simply put, we were after the Cinematic Records. Your library's collection of them is something of a feast to us. I led everyone here under the condition that they allowed me the choicest selections."

"I would think so, since little Phantomhive's soul seems to have spoiled you."

"…Indeed," Sebastian said stiffly. "However, what's past is past." He smirked, though Grell noticed it seemed somewhat forced. "I must say, I didn't expect the reapers to retaliate so quickly. We never even made it up the stairs."

"You underestimated us?" Grell asked mockingly, feeling a swell of pride. "I'm _shocked_, Sebby!"

This earned him a generous stomp from Azriel. "Cheeky thing, you! You're in no place to be speakin' that way to us!"

"Not that I disagree, Azriel, but I do want him in one piece by the end of the day," Sebastian said calmly.

She just looked at Sebastian and delivered a single kick to Grell's side. "The sun's set," she said, Grell crying out with pain again. "Oh, quit your wailing. I _barely_ tapped you."

Sebastian almost laughed. "Enough. We'll have time for this later. You're being fairly cheeky, yourself." She cackled. "Once he's back up on his feet," he continued with a nasty smile, "I would like to play with him. After all, we must let Mr. Spears know that Grell is going to be our guest for a while, but he is, unfortunately, currently occupied. It would be rude to interrupt, so I will wait until he's free."

She smiled wickedly. "Sounds like fun. I think I'll hang round and see what happens."

"By all means, do so. I enjoy the occasional audience…"

Grell involuntarily swallowed hard. No, this was _not_ going to be fun at all.

Sebastian let his foot off of Grell's chest and stepped back. Grell immediately lurched up to his feet, wary, glancing between Sebastian and the she-demon called Azriel.

"Let the games begin," she said softly, leering.

* * *

_DURRR! Another OC! I made Azriel because I'm kind of annoyed at all the 'pretty' demons in the series, so I decided I would make a not-so-pretty one. I guess she's kind of a toadie to Sebastian, here...tell me what you think! 3_


	4. Chapter 4

_**Author's note: **Everyone...I am so, so, so SO sorry for such a long wait for an update. I really have no excuse, I just...sort of ran dry for the story and didn't get inspired again until last week. I truly hope this update is worth the wait, and I thank you so much for your patience. Really, I love you guys. Your reviews are a joy to read and they encourage me. Thank you so much. I will try harder to get this story done as I work alongside it with another fic, also Kuroshitsuji, and hope to get that one published soon, too. Thank you again. -Lunar Raine_

* * *

Ronald Knox was still sitting in William's office. After William had gone, Ronald helped himself into a chair, still panting and exhausted from fighting and running. He sat there for a good ten minutes, catching his breath and surveying the damage that had been dealt. His suit jacket was history, probably the vest and shirt as well…wincing, he peeled the ruined jacket off and loosened his tie, finding that he could now breathe more easily, and so just removed it altogether.

Groaning in pain, he forced himself up and out of the chair, inching toward the candlestick telephone on William's desk. With trembling, clumsy hands, he picked it up and dialed the number of the Wales branch reception desk. A few agonizing moments of sitting and listening to it ring six or seven times, and then —

_Click._

A woman's voice, answering in a perfect monotone.

"Grim Reaper Dispatch, Wales Branch."

Ronald breathed in relief; he recognized the receptionist's voice, he knew who she was. She would help. "Cordelia! It's Ronald Knox, I need your h — "

"_Roooooonnie_~! What a lovely surprise!" the receptionist exclaimed joyfully, instantly dropping her professional tone and adopting a sickly-sweet, childish one. "Oh, Ronniekins, it's been _ages_!" she cooed. In the background, there were sounds of struggling and a few women positively shrieking in excitement — ("Ronald _Knox_?" "Ohmygods! Tell him I said hello!" "See if he's free on Friday night!" "Aaaah! _Ronnie_'s on the phone?") — to which Cordelia snapped, "Shut up! I can't hear him!" She cleared her throat and spoke sweetly to him again. "What can I do for you, Ronnie? Do you need a date?"

Ronald had to fight down a smile and the urge to say yes. Normally he absolutely adored this kind of attention from the girls, but now was definitely not the time for it. He shook his head even though he was only on the phone. "Sorry, not now, I need to — "

"Aw, boooo. That's no fun. Already set, huh? Oh, and Whynne wouldn't stop bothering me so I put you on speakerphone —"

"Cor — "

"And Gwendolyn says hello — "

"Cordelia!" he spoke sharply and it startled her into being quiet. "Please, this is really serious, I need you to listen to me."

"…What's wrong?" she asked in a hushed tone. Her voice had lost its sickly sweetness.

Ronald sighed and pushed his bangs off his forehead. "I need everyone to stay calm," he said, keeping his voice steady. "London branch is under attack by demons. I don't know how many there are, but I think they outnumber us. Loads of us are already injured and unable to fight, including me. There have even been some fatalities, so our chances of winning aren't getting any better. We need backup, we need as many people as your branch can spare. Tell your supervisors and hurry as fast as you can."

A terrible hush fell over the other end. There was a second's pause, and then Cordelia said hoarsely, "Well, you heard him, ladies. Let's get a move on." There were now sounds of clamoring and scurrying around, orders being shouted. "Ron — " she cleared her throat again. "Ronald, you said you got injured, too, are you going to be all right? Where are you?"

"I'll be fine, it's just some scratches," he reassured her, but he looked down and examined his chest again anyway. The wounds were still bleeding freely, and what was worse was that they were beginning to sting horribly. As he spoke, he unbuttoned his waistcoat to access the damage better. "I'm in Mr. Spears' office. Nobody knows I'm here except for him. And now you."

"William Spears? Why didn't _he_ just call?"

"He ran out to go hold the demons back as soon as I told him what happened," he told her, now trying to shrug his shirt off his shoulders. "But enough of that, you should go get ready if you can."

"I can't, my death scythe is in for repairs," she said bitterly. "That's why I'm stuck here answering the phone. There's nothing _I_ can do."

"You can get medical staff and first aid all gathered up and stuff…We're going to need it," he said, looking around for William's first-aid kit. He quickly spied a dusty white tin box propped up near the radiator, and to his eternal annoyance, it was nowhere within his reach. He would have to hang up the phone to get to it.

"Already being taken care of. What if there's another emergency, Ronald?" she demanded. "I should be here in case one of us needs help!"

He sighed into the phone. "Alright. Okay, um…stay there, but I've got to hang up so I can take care of as much as I can. Here." He gave her the telephone number for William's office. "Call that number if you have a problem. Okay?"

"Okay."

"I'll be right here, I just need to take care of some stuff. Tell everyone good luck."

"All right. Good luck to you, too."

"Thanks, Cordelia. 'Bye."

And with that, Ronald hung the receiver up. He sat there for a few seconds more, exhaling deeply in order to relax. "…Right then," he muttered as he eased himself up. He shuffled across the room to the first-aid kit, picking it up and taking it back to the chair. He eyed it with a look that appeared less-than-thrilled, frowning, and then opened it up so he could begin tending his wounds.

"Good luck to me, too," he said aloud.

* * *

Grell Sutcliff was less than thrilled, himself. Here he was, facing two demons, both of whom were at full strength, while he was on his last legs and had been involuntarily relieved of his death scythe, and therefore rendered nearly helpless. He silently noted to himself that, once this whole bothersome affair was finished, he would take a leaf out of Ronald Knox's book and begin carrying a switchblade in his pocket. That boy was definitely onto something.

He considered the two demons before him. They could not have been more different from each other. One was tall, dark, and handsome, smartly dressed without so much as a hair out of place, even in the midst of battle. He was calmly adjusting his pristine white gloves, and all but radiated an aura of cool self-assurance and demonic power. And, _oh, _that ever-present sexy smirk of his, that damned cold, enigmatic smile which whispered of the very dangerous things that would undoubtedly come if you rubbed him the wrong way. Grell got a pleasant shiver just from glancing at it, his heart giving a delightful little flutter. _Easy, Grelly,_ he reminded himself, _it's just a schoolgirl crush._ …But that raven-colored hair, those auburn-hued eyes were so deliciously alluring…

Grell licked his lips. _Look, but don't touch._

He shifted his attention to Sebastian's companion. His expression almost immediately contorted into a disgusted sneer as he really eyed her up and down, scrutinizing her. Where Sebastian was tall, she was taller, and very awkwardly so, and _she_ moved so gawkily when Sebastian had grace and precision in his smallest movements. The other demon, this…unfortunate creature called Azriel, was as ugly as she was tall. Grell wrinkled his nose in distaste when he looked at her gaunt, bony face and rotting teeth. He wasn't attracted to women anyway, but _this_ specimen was the most repulsive example he had ever seen. Just _looking_ at the sheer amount of filth that clung to her made him want to go home and scrub himself.

Not to mention that dingy, stained toga of hers. Oh, _please_, it was so archaic. He was sure togas were _passé_ even in the Middle Ages, and from the looks of things, he surmised, the thing probably hadn't been washed since then, either, if ever. It was simply ghastly. He visibly shuddered to express his distaste; Hades forbid that the wretched being actually _touch _him with those disgusting hands…

While Grell was evaluating Azriel, Sebastian began to move. Grell immediately shifted his gaze back to him, watching him intensely. The demon was sure to make a move soon; there was no doubt about it."What's this, then?" Sebastian asked curiously, beginning to slowly circle the reaper. He held a hand to his chin, appearing deep in thought.

Grell blinked in surprise. He hadn't expected more banter. How tiresome… "What's what?" he asked suspiciously, head turning to follow him. Sebastian suddenly darted behind the shinigami, grabbed him by the wrists, and swiftly relieved him of his red coat, removing it with a flourish. The redhead exclaimed, flailed, and protested, whirling around and straining for the garment, which was held out of his reach. "Heyyy! That's mine!" he cried indignantly. How _dare _he! Didn't he know the importance of that coat?

Sebastian raised his eyebrows. "_Yours_?" he said with mock-surprise. "Now, that's a dubious claim. I was under the impression it belonged to a certain Angelina Durless…"

Grell froze for half a second, then shrank away a little and took his outstretched arm back, eyes darting uncertainly between the coat and the demon. "…We shared it," he said defensively, after a moment's hesitation.

"Shared it? _Really_."

"Really," he went on more boldly. "Ladyfriends share _plenty_ of clothing if they're the same size."

The demon looked at the coat and raised one eyebrow, clearly skeptical. "Which, obviously, you weren't," he pointed out. "You couldn't even get this up past your elbows. Secondly, you are not a lady."

Grell's face quickly flushed pink in anger and embarrassment. _How very rude…I am _too _a lady. _"Well, _most_ of her things fit me," he muttered with less certainty. "I like that at my elbows _anyway _because I think it looks flirty. _And!_ I can be a lady if I want to be," he huffed. "Being a lady isn't mere _physical_ appearance, it's a state of mind!"

"Please spare me — no, spare _everyone_ — and kindly cease deluding yourself," Sebastian said with a false smile. "You, however much you claim otherwise, are permanently trapped in a decidedly _male_ body, hormones and chemical processes included." Just as Grell was about to protest and repeat himself, the demon slowly and deliberately dragged a hand across the reaper's flat chest for emphasis, causing the latter to gasp sharply and jerk back, more color rising to his cheeks. Sebastian laughed. "Oh? I thought you _wanted_ me to touch you in such a way. It was so obvious back then. What's changed your mind? Am I not what you expected? Am I displeasing?" With each question, Sebastian brought his face teasingly closer to Grell's until their noses almost touched.

Grell turned his head away, squirming uncomfortably. "…N-no…it's…" he trailed off when he spotted William nearby, fighting a losing battle with one of the few remaining demons. He gasped aloud again, looking horrified, and immediately tore forward, calling William's name, intending to try and assist him, only to be blocked by Azriel. He skidded to a stop, glanced up at her face, and then tried dashing around her. Easily, she lunged to the side and blocked his path. The process was repeated several times, all of her moves successfully thwarting his escape.

"Where do you think you're going, honey?"

"I'm going to go help William, thanks," he muttered, trying to look around her to check on William's progress. The demon still had the high ground, and they seemed to be struggling for possession of his death scythe. But before Grell could determine any more, Azriel gave him a hard shove that sent him sprawling. He quickly scrambled back up to his feet, looking up at her warily as she loomed over him.

"Don't be daft, sweetheart," she said with a crooked smile. She leaned in and flicked her forked tongue at him. "You can't honestly believe that you can help him without that scythe of yours."

He grunted in frustration; of course she was right. He wouldn't be able to do much damage at all, even with his teeth…without the scythe, he was next to helpless. Taking a couple of steps back, Grell thought frantically for another solution, coming up with none. He looked again for William, and found him. In the few seconds he was able to, he anxiously watched as William regained control of his scythe, and therefore control over the fight. He sighed in relief; William would definitely win now.

"What _do_ you keep looking at, Mr. Grell?"

Yanked back into reality by Sebastian's inquiry, Grell warily looked at him, not wanting to answer the question. He kept his mouth firmly shut, clenching his teeth.

"Oh? So tight-lipped all of a sudden. What's brought this on?" Sebastian asked interestedly. "I'm very curious about this change in your behavior."

Grell had no intentions of answering, but he heard a shout come from William, and, unable to stop himself, he turned and looked to see what had happened. Evidently, the demon he was fighting had finally landed a blow, for there was a long gash across William's chest from his left shoulder to his right hip. He was bleeding heavily, but acted like he hadn't even been hit at all, alternating between slashing and stabbing at his opponent. Even still, his injury forced a small cry of alarm from Grell's throat, and he instinctively moved again to go help somehow.

"Restrain him, Azriel," Sebastian said calmly.

Before Grell could so much as blink, the draconic demon came up behind him, grabbed his arms, and held them tightly behind his back. Grell jerked violently from side to side to try to escape, shouting both at his captor and to his friend: "No! William! _Will_ — !"

Sebastian stepped in front of Grell, blocking William from view. He had a soft, cool smile on his face. "I see, now…" he murmured, sounding very amused. "Now I understand why you failed to react to my advances."

"Why would _that_ be, pray tell?" Grell snapped, still trying to break free.

The demon's smile widened. "I was merely a ruse, wasn't I? It's Mr. _Spears_ that you truly care about."

Grell froze and flushed deeply, his face turning nearly as red as his hair. Was it really that obvious? Sebastian had just caught him red-handed once again. Once he recovered, he shook his head. "S-says who?" he said defensively, tugging at his captor and trying to look indifferent. "I'd want to help _any _of my friends."

"Is that so? Then why haven't you called for any except for him?" Sebastian challenged.

"…Th-that — er — ah…"

Sebastian looked as if he dearly wished to laugh. "How sweet. An office romance…does he return your affections?"

Grell bristled. "E-even if I _did_ like him, it would still be none of your business!" he snapped. "So be quiet! It's very rude to pry into a lady's heart like that!"

"So he does not, I take it?" the demon asked mildly.

"Shut up!" Grell silently _prayed_ William wasn't hearing this conversation. He stole a lightning glance over to William; the elder shinigami was still mercilessly slashing at his opponent, getting positively showered in blood. Normally the sight would have sent Grell into throes of ecstasy, but given the circumstances…he shook his head, both to clear it, and to further express his denial to Sebastian. "Shut up, there's nothing there between us! It's none of your business!"

Sebastian just tutted and ignored him, turning his attention back to Madam Red's coat, which he was still holding, and examined it closely. "This is in surprisingly excellent condition, considering how much it's gone through." He turned it over so he was looking at the back and remarked, "One can hardly even see where your death scythe had gone through it. You've restored it magnificently."

Grell lowered his gaze to the ground, injured. He'd just _had_ to bring that up, hadn't he? Adding even further insult to injury, the scum of a man…where was he even going with this? What was he accomplishing by bringing it up, anyway? Grell supposed it was to psych him out…well, he wasn't going to let Sebastian get the best of him. Better to keep the subject far away from William and just go with the conversation, odd as it was. "Yes, well, thank you, I worked hard on it," he said stiffly.

"To erase your misdeed, perhaps?"

Grell just scowled. "_No_," he said stubbornly. "It's a nice coat. I wasn't going to let it go to _waste_."

"Ah. So you'll save the coat, but kill its owner in cold blood?"

_Bastard. _Grell narrowed his eyes."Listen to me _very_ carefully. I doubt a day goes by when I don't regret killing her," he said with a soft, though genuine, growl. Sebastian was now treading on _very _thin ice, and the reaper would rather not get worked up over the issue. "When I don't think about how stupid I'd been. I suppose it's an apology. A tribute to her memory."

"By stealing her clothing from her corpse and parading it about while you work a very dirty job?" Sebastian smirked, examining it. "You _are _stupid."

Quite angered by this remark, Grell tried once more to lunge for it, but Azriel held the shinigami fast, tightening her grip on his arms.

"You really care about these — _old rags_ — that much?" Sebastian kept his gaze locked with Grell's as he tossed the scarlet coat over his shoulder. It flapped in the breeze for a moment before landing in a crumpled heap in the dusty, dirty rubble. Grell stared at it in an appalled silence for a moment, pale with rage — and then Sebastian ground the toe of his shoe into it, driving it further into the filth. At this, Grell cried out furiously, lurching toward Sebastian and spitting out a string of foul curses, mingled with a single agonized cry: 'Angelina!' He strained to get at the demon, thrashing about and gnashing his teeth, tears of utter fury beading in the corners of his eyes. Sebastian stayed calm, remaining — teasingly — safely out of reach, hands clasped neatly behind his back. "My, _my_," he said in mock surprise. "That's quite a lot of foul words over a mere coat."

"Shut up! I'll kill you! I'll _kill you_!" Grell shrieked. He yanked violently against his captor, hands so tense they practically contorted into claws.

"Listen to yourself rant and rave and issue _death threats_ over a piece of clothing, Mr. Grell," Sebastian chuckled. "Why, it almost makes me miss being called 'Sebby'."

"_She meant a lot to me!"_

The demon pretended to look apologetic, even meek. "Oh, yes, of _course_. But it's funny…I can't imagine that she meant very much to you at all, considering that you murdered her without hesitation."

Grell shouted another obscenity and dug a heel as hard as he could into Sebastian's shin, the other aiming for his face. The second one did not meet its mark, but the first one definitely dealt significant damage, tearing up the leg of Sebastian's trousers and gouging deep into his skin. Sebastian let out a groan of pain and quickly staggered back, his hands flying to the impact point.

Azriel's tail coiled around Grell's legs, pulling them back and restraining them, as well. "Hurry this up, Michaelis," she said in a bored tone as the shinigami continued to thrash wildly in her grip, hissing not unlike a very angry cat. "It's been charming and all, but it's getting hard to get him to stay still."

"In a moment." With a grimace, Sebastian passed a hand over the wound he'd received on his leg. In seconds, it had closed up, the skin patching itself up and healing seamlessly. He then calmly stood back up, faced Grell with a gentle smile, and then struck him across the face. The blow yielded a satisfyingly loud clap, and the redhead's glasses were knocked off his face, falling onto his chest, hanging from their trademark chain, and it was enough to still and silence the reaper.

"You are just beautifully feisty to the end, aren't you?" Sebastian said in a friendly, pleasant tone. Grell just glared silently and witheringly at him through the corner of his eye, breathing heavily through his nose. "If such is the case, I am now _very _determined to break you." He reached up and took hold of Grell's glasses. He closed his hand tightly around them, gave a sharp tug, and the chain snapped around the back of Grell's neck. The beads evacuated the cord in a hurry, scattering around the broken limestone. Still not finished, he crushed the glasses themselves in his fist, the glass and plastic easily breaking. They, too, were tossed behind him to join the coat in pieces.

"A lovely parting gift for your _dearest_ William, wouldn't you say so, Mr. Grell?" Sebastian asked softly. Grell said nothing; he just stared stonily ahead, unable to see anything else. Sebastian frowned, approached Grell once more, and grabbed his chin, forcing the reaper to look up at him. "You know," he said dangerously, "I've only impaired your vision, not your hearing. It's very rude to ignore someone when they are asking you a question." His lips turned up into a cruel smirk. "_Tsk_. And you so stubbornly call yourself a lady."

By way of reply, Grell spat in his face.

His smirk vanishing instantly, Sebastian slowly drew back, wiping the saliva onto his gloved hand. "…Lovely," he said tonelessly. "I'd like to hit you again, but you didn't seem to learn anything from that the first time."

"Do it anyway," Azriel offered.

"Now, now, we don't want to take any unnecessary action, Azriel," he chided gently through a smirk.

"Well, whatever you do, better make it quick 'cos we're about to have company."

"I do suppose we've dawdled long enough," Sebastian said, looking over his shoulder in time to see William finally take his opponent down, stabbing them in the heart and swiftly cleaving the Cinematic Record. "It seems Mr. Spears will want to extend his greetings to us, next, and frankly, I'd find that to be a nuisance. I only want to stay long enough to say 'goodbye' to him, if possible." As he said this, William retrieved his bloodied death scythe, wiped it clean on the dead demon's clothing, and began slowly advancing toward them with a noticeable limp.

Grell was only barely able to make out William's shape, but saw the death scythe and knew who it was. He began straining and pulling against his captor again, and when that proved futile, he shouted at the top of his voice, "William, no! Don't come, they're going to kill you!"

"Nonsense, darling, at our very _worst_ we'll just rough him up a bit," Azriel said cheerfully. Grell ignored her.

"Will! Stay away!" He struggled again and muttered quietly, "Don't be stupid, you can't fight _two_, especially not when you're already hurt…" He felt Azriel shift her grip, and took immediate advantage of the temporary slack, yanking an arm free and clawing at her arms to try and force her to release him. "_William! No!_ I can handle them!"

"The hell you can. Look what a smashing job you've done so far." Azriel set to work on subduing him again, but he put as much effort as he could into being too quick for her. She scowled when she repeatedly failed to catch him. "Eurgh…slippery little weasel, you…"

Quickly, he took a hand to his mouth, biting the tip of his glove to free his hand from it before dropping it to the ground. With all the force he could muster, he dug his nails into her arm, leaving long red welts in their wake and even drawing blood. She hissed in pain and instinctively lashed out at him, raking her claws horizontally across his face. He winced and grimaced, but he twisted around in her grip and delivered a similar blow, tearing his nails into her flesh as he dragged his hand down her cheek and throat, coating his hand with her blood.

The demon cried out at the stinging pain, trying to better him, but unable to because she was trying to hang onto him. "_Michaelis_!" she screeched. "Stop standing there like an idiot and help me, you sadistic bastard!"

Sebastian chuckled softly. "Oh, but it's been so fun," he said. "Watching you struggle with one measly reaper, you know. As if I wouldn't be able to take him down should he escape your grasp."

Grell glanced behind him to check on William, watching him slip on someone's blood and lose his footing. He had to use his death scythe to get himself back up, and even then, it obviously took him some effort. He was close; he only had about twenty feet left, but at the pace he was going…with his injury…Grell turned back around, now struggling more forcefully than he ever had that evening, thrashing from side to side. "Wil-_liam_ — don't — be — stupid — you — can't — fight — _now_!" he shouted over his shoulder with each jerk, now reaching up to try and gouge his fingers into the demon's eyes.

"Oh, _shut your howler_ — " Azriel snapped, clamping a hand over Grell's mouth. "_Michaelis! _The other one's _watching_. He can _see_. Let's just _get_ the damn reaper and get the hell out of here!"

Before Sebastian could answer, Grell sank his teeth into Azriel's hand, biting down at hard as he could, hearing and feeling the bones' sickening crunch between his jaws. She let out a piercing scream and instinctively shoved him away, howling and cursing and flailing her hand about. The force knocked Grell down, but he rolled, staggered up to his feet, and wiped the blood from his mouth onto the back of his clean hand, breathing hard.

He lunged forward again, and with surprising dexterity, swooped a leg around, aiming a kick to Azriel's face to bring her down, but was caught and stopped by Sebastian. In three quick movements, demon conquered reaper. The hand holding Grell's ankle twisted it sharply, forcing a pained cry from the shinigami. In the next instant, there were two hits; one sharp blow to the solar plexus, the other to the back of the head. Grell dropped like a stone, out cold and caught before he even hit the ground.

Sebastian casually draped the unconscious reaper across an arm like he would a tea towel, and turned to face William with a calm smile. "Good evening, Mr. Spears."

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_Whoops. 'Nuther cliffhanger. :'D I swear I'll try harder this time to not leave you all hanging so long. Let's see what happens next! As always, reviews are eternally loved._


	5. Chapter 5

**_AN: _**_Thanks again everyone so much for your kind reviews. They made me smile so much~ It's great to be back. I love you all! Hope you enjoy this new chapter._

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"Good evening, Mr. Spears."

William watched him in suspicion. Why even bother with the formalities? "…It _was_, before you decided to drop in unannounced," he said stiffly.

"You grim reapers are all so frightfully rude. Is that any way to greet someone?" the demon said disdainfully.

"It's acceptable for greeting vermin such as yourself with," William returned, his voice frigid. "Remove that officer from your filthy paws, and return him to us or I will have to use force."

"You're in no state to make such a demand. Have a look at yourself, good sir."

"I warned you — " William shot his death scythe out, extending it and aiming for Sebastian's throat, but Sebastian easily reached out and grabbed it out of the air. He yanked it toward him, dragging William with it, and then easily knocked it out of his hands and to the side. William fell with it, landing flat on the wound on his chest. It stung terribly, and he hissed with pain, pressing a hand to it as he tried to get up.

"He was right to call you a fool," Sebastian said, nodding down to the unconscious Grell. "You can hardly stand and yet you still attempt to bring harm to me." He flicked away a speck of dust he'd spotted on his shoulder, and his casual air made William's blood boil. "Allow me to cut to the chase. To put it simply, we are going to take Mr. Grell with us. If you want him back, it's going to cost you…oh, shall we say, one thousand souls? You have one month to produce them. If not, he dies, and we shall raid your precious Library once more."

William was careful to keep his expression completely blank, but he could feel the color draining from his face. He cast a lightning glance at Grell to check on his condition. The redhead was still unconscious, and now the cuts he had received on his face were steadily dripping blood to the ground. The older reaper gritted his teeth, averting his gaze. No. No, this was not going to happen. Grell was not going anywhere, and he was certainly not going to die. William forced himself back up onto his feet, doing his best to ignore the searing, knifelike pain that seemed to attack him from every direction. He felt his injured leg trembling; he was certain it would give way soon. Despite his body's screaming protests, he lunged to the side to grab his death scythe and shot it out at the demon again.

He met the exact same results as before. Sebastian, without so much as batting an eye, calmly reached up and simply plucked it from the air before it could do any damage. He pulled it toward him, William still clinging determinedly to it, dragging his feet in an effort to slow it down, until the two were not even a foot apart. With one well-placed kick to William's injured leg, Sebastian brought him down, making him writhe and hiss in pain. In another swift motion, Sebastian brought the open blades of the death scythe down onto William's wrist, effectively pinning him to the ground.

The reaper spat out even more curses, just as his subordinate had mere minutes before, as he thrashed on the ground, trying to free himself. He soon found it would be impossible if he did not want to lose a hand, and he glared up at Sebastian. "_No! _Release him immediately!" he snarled.

"Again you make unreasonable demands."

"Let him go! If you must, take me instead. Not him, let him go!"

"Take _you _instead?" Sebastian repeated. "They don't value you half as much as they do him, this I know for a fact. Mr. Grell is too much of a threat to us for me to simply allow him to run free…just look at how much damage he's caused to our side. Why would I ever trade the two of you?"

"I am the head administrator of the London branch," William panted, growing deeply fatigued from his efforts to free himself. "They cannot run things here without my presence, while Sutcliff is a mere officer. I would say that such an exchange would be far more beneficial to you."

Sebastian was silent for a moment, and then smiled knowingly, tilting his head. "How very curious. You are willing to jeopardize your entire department for 'a mere officer', Mr. Administrator?"

"…Yes," William muttered.

"Very interesting," Sebastian remarked. "A sacrifice of this level suggests to me that your relationship with this _mere officer_ is not a professional one…"

William said nothing.

"I must say, I'm surprised you would be so selfish," the demon went on. "I never thought you were one to make a decision with your heart and not your head…Just what is he to you?"

William shifted his attention to Grell, his expression becoming somber. "Grell Sutcliff," he said quietly, "is my valued partner, and I would dare to say…my best friend."

Off to the side, Azriel pretended to gag. Sebastian, in turn, pretended not to have heard her. "Is that so? I hadn't thought you capable of such sentiments."

"I don't like to admit it, but I'm quite…fond of him. Therefore, I would truly appreciate it if you guaranteed his safety by leaving him here and taking me instead."

Sebastian merely stared down at the shinigami with an impassive look, William watching him just as emotionlessly, though inside he was burning up. The very _idea_ that he was under a _demon's_ complete mercy, stuck to the ground and forced to look _up_ at the vile creature, the idea that it was looking down at him past its nose…it made William grit his teeth in disgust and fury. Such shame he was bringing upon his name, his branch, his very race…he glanced to the side to see how the remaining shinigami were faring. There were five demons left, and six reapers, and for the life of him, he could not tell who had the higher ground. Both sides were clearly exhausted, but still fought mercilessly.

"But, Mr. Spears…" Sebastian continued, "without your authority, how can I be assured that I will receive one thousand souls? Surely your mere officer could not accomplish that same task?"

It took William a painfully long time to admit that Grell could not.

"You see? This is why I need you to remain here," Sebastian said with a self-satisfied smirk.

"All the same, I must ask that you reconsider…" As best as he could with his wrist pinned down, William got up as far as he was able to kneel, putting the weight onto his good knee. Inwardly, he shivered in disgust at the very idea of what he was about to do, but he knew it had to be done. It was his last chance. He drew in a deep breath and bowed his head deeply to Sebastian in a gesture of submission, bowing as low as his position would allow. The meaning was clear as crystal: _I am inferior. _

"…_Please_," he growled through gritted teeth. "I'm willing to bow down to _you_ and beg like the lowliest of stray dogs, all for one officer's life — _please_, I am _begging_ you to release him and take me in his stead."

Sebastian watched this display with an interested expression, and stood there for a moment, evaluating the reaper that was bowing at his feet. "Impressive, Mr. Spears," he announced at last, "but unfortunately, my mind has been made up from the moment Mr. Grell challenged me this evening. Though I must applaud your theatrical efforts. You would do well in a comedy…"

William snapped his head up, glaring at the demon with all the hate in the world. "No — " His last resort had failed…what would he do now? What did he have left?

"I've had enough of these clichés," Sebastian said, sounding mildly bored. "You know my conditions. No amount of soppy begging and pleading is going to get you what you want."

"_NO_!"

"One thousand souls."

"_GRELL_!"

"One month."

Another futile, extremely painful yank. By now, a small puddle of blood had accumulated beneath William's pinned wrist. "_No, damn you, let him go_!"

"I trust that you needn't any further instructions. Azriel, round up whoever isn't dead and retreat."

Azriel was nursing her bitten hand, wrapping it in a strip of cloth she'd torn from her own toga, now soaked red. She gave Sebastian an acidic look, but went and did as she was told. At some silent signal, the few remaining demons suddenly withdrew from their opponents and disappeared into thick, black clouds of smoke, the exhausted reapers watching, bewildered.

Sebastian took his watch from his pocket, flipping it open and checking it. "Now, Mr. Spears," he said, putting it away, "If you'll forgive me, I am a little pressed for time. Excuse me…" He adjusted Grell so that he was holding the reaper more securely. William grabbed for his death scythe with his other hand, frantically yanking and pulling on it with all his might.

"No! _No, no, no, no, no, no!_ _GRELL, NO _— !"

Sebastian smiled condescendingly, and he too vanished into a choking cloud of black smoke, his accompanied by ink-black feathers.

Grell was gone.

And William had been completely helpless to assist him. From the very start, he had had zero control over the situation. He had never had a chance.

Breathing heavily, William stared in shock at the place where his coworker — no, his friend — and that demon had stood the moment before, then down at the spot where he now realized Grell's coat and broken glasses still lay in a heap, his anger suddenly escalating. He pounded his free fist on the ground, bowed his head low again, and screamed long and loud, screaming out his fury, his frustration and hate. He had failed so miserably, and now Grell had been taken away by _them_, who would do gods-knew-what to him. Torture him, no doubt, and Grell was too stupid and arrogant to know to not antagonize them. If they didn't act immediately, Grell would meet certain death.

The sound of approaching footsteps brought him back to his senses, and he wearily looked up to find Eric Slingby looking down at him, half-carrying a panting, ashen Alan Humphries.

Wordlessly, Eric leaned down and helped William dislodge the latter's death scythe from the ground. One look was all he had needed to realize most of the situation, and so no questions needed to be asked on his part. William very shakily got up to his feet, holding himself up by his scythe. "…Thank you, Slingby," he muttered. His voice was hoarse and shaky, and he cleared his throat, attempting to recompose himself.

Eric nodded, shifting Alan so that the frail reaper was held more securely. "Welcome, sir," he said gruffly.

William lifted a trembling hand to adjust his glasses and glanced over at Alan. "Did he have another attack?"

Eric nodded again, looking extremely grave and worried. "Yeah. A couple of minutes ago, just before the demons left."

Alan looked far worse off than he normally did when his illness struck, so William knew that the younger one had also been injured during the battle. Eric was being much too calm, giving William the sense that it was very bad, much worse than things appeared to be. "Take care of him immediately. Get him to the infirmary," he said tersely.

The blond shinigami did not need to be told twice. "Yes, sir," was all he said before turning away and completely picking the younger man up, hurrying up the long staircase as fast as he could without jostling him.

As William watched them go, the few remaining shinigami approached him and asked what to do, almost fearfully. He turned to face them, keeping a cold and indifferent demeanor. "Gather as many of the wounded as you can and get them to the infirmary. Have your own injuries treated, as well," he said firmly. "Leave the dead be for now; our first priority is that everyone alive receives medical attention."

"What…what about Mr. Sutcliff?" someone asked hesitantly.

"Nothing can be done to help him now," William snapped, rounding on the inquiring reaper with a frightening tone. "For the time being, he must be on his own. Worry about those present for now, and get yourself _treated_. Do _not_ make me repeat myself again!"

They all nodded meekly, chorusing a hurried "yessir", and scattered, helping the many reapers who were lying around unconscious or otherwise incapable of moving on their own. William limped over to Grell's coat and glasses, using his scythe as a crutch, and carefully bent down to pick both of the items up. The frames of the glasses were snapped in half at the bridge, the earpieces bent and twisted, and the lenses were both shattered. Even from a glance, it was obvious that they were irreparable. He looked at the useless specs in his hand for a moment before slowly and silently pocketing them, then folding the coat neatly and draping it over an arm.

There was a metallic grinding sound behind him, and he turned and watched as Agnes Lockhart pried Grell's death scythe out of the steps, stumbling back when it unexpectedly came free. She regained her balance and faced William, walking slowly to him. When she approached him, she held the scythe up slightly, but did not meet his gaze. "I'm sorry, sir," she muttered after a while. "…I saw what happened, and I couldn't — "

William waved a free hand to quiet her. "None of us could have helped him. We were all…" he lowered his voice slightly, "…powerless." He turned his gaze to the devastation over the bridge, and the two watched as injured shinigami were helped up onto backs and carried into arms. "This incident…it's extremely alarming how caught unawares we were. How quickly we went down and how many of us have been injured or killed."

Agnes looked sideways at him. "Surely no one could have anticipated this — "

He glared sharply at her. "No. We _should _have expected something like this. We _should _have been prepared. It certainly is not the first time we shinigami have been attacked, but it is the first time we have been overwhelmed in such a humiliating manner. Our foes withdrew, but we were as good as defeated."

She remained emotionless, returning her attention to the activity around them. "Do you believe that Sutcliff possibly…saved us?"

William did not remove his gaze from her, narrowing his eyes. "Elaborate."

"He bought us time. We can rebuild ourselves and prepare for further attacks."

William nearly snorted. "And how, exactly, will we accomplish that in one month? I'd hazard a guess that we've had at least fifty casualties, and we were already shorthanded. If they attack this branch again when they claim they will, we haven't a prayer for survival. Unfortunately, our only hope is to submit to their demands."

Agnes looked revolted. "You _cannot_ be serious! One thousand souls, gone as if they never existed in the first place! You will be erasing _history_, Mr. Spears!"

"I am perfectly aware, Lockhart," he replied peevishly. "It is either this, or let them kill everyone else, steal _all_ of the Doomsday Books and Cinematic Records to mindlessly devour, and desecrate our cherished Library. Either option is terrible, but I am not so callous as to sacrifice _everyone_ and everything in order to save a measly thousand souls out of the millions we have. Do not _insult_ me. You are young, but even the youngest reapers could tell you which option is obviously the lesser of two evils."

"You'll be bringing eternal shame to London," she growled. "It's a complete disgrace. You've already _bowed_ to the filth, too, just in a desperate attempt to save that — that _pet_ of yours — "

William narrowed his eyes further, scowl becoming dangerously pronounced. "Save your judging for the Cinematic Records, Lockhart," he said softly and coldly. "Know your place here."

"…Tch." Agnes averted her gaze, glaring hard. But she flicked her eyes back up at the sound of hurried, approaching footsteps. They both turned around to face the noise, and found a group of reapers running toward them. Agnes raised an eyebrow at them.

"William Spears?" one of the men in front said, looking at William.

"Yes," William confirmed, his cold expression staying firm.

"Gavin Thomas, head administrator of the Wales branch," the man said, bowing deeply. "We received a call from one of your officers about the siege, but…" he lowered his head regretfully. "…It appears, unfortunately, that we were too late. On behalf of all of us, I apologize."

William offered a very brief bow of his own in return, but when he rose again, he still looked very displeased. "It is greatly appreciated that you made the effort to come all this way at all. However, though the fight has ended, that does not mean we no longer require your assistance. There are many of us who have been wounded, so any help attending to them would also be appreciated."

"We would be glad to help in any way we can," Gavin said politely.

"Good. In that case, please follow me. I will lead you to the infirmary." William turned to face Agnes, looking positively frigid. "Lockhart, you stay here and assist those who are more injured than you."

She handed over Grell's death scythe, looking calm once more, though William knew very well that her calmness was only a farce. "Yes, sir," was all she said before pushing past them. Gavin shouted a few orders over his shoulder in Welsh, and half of his group went with Agnes.

William looked back at Grell's scythe, a numbness beginning to settle into his very bones. Grell was truly gone, wasn't he? His old friend…

As if running on autopilot, he turned mechanically on his heel and began to limp up the stairs. "This way, then," he muttered.

As the group climbed, William's mind was very much on his missing friend, silently hoping he would be all right, and trying in vain to fight off a twinge of guilt over the last thing he had said to him, along with a certain wish he had made soon after. As he limped along, he repeatedly thought one thing:

_Don't die, Grell._

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_DUN DUN DUNNNNNN. So no Grell in this chapter, I'm sorry. This is starting to be much longer than I thought it would be, but I'm definitely having fun. Have I mentioned how much I adore writing dialog? Especially Sebastian's? Yeah. It's more fun than Disneyland._

_As always, reviews are loved forever. Thanks again!_


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